


Something New

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mermaid!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:48:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His initial thought was neither intelligent nor helpful: <i>“Fuck”. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sherlock Secret Santa for PinkGloom92 on Tumblr. This was a fun challenge and not something that I've ever thought about or considered writing but, here I am! Inspired by [this amazing drawing](http://pinkgloom92.tumblr.com/post/37293205193/shermaid-or-merlock).

John fell forward, his boots sliding on the deck. He gripped the guardrail, shifting his body weight to keep balance as the boat shook and split beneath his feet. Wave after wave of dark seawater spilled over the edges of the ship, the force of each crash sending strong, military men to their feet.

The storm had come quickly and with little warning. Where there had been a calm, starry night sky, there were suddenly rolling dark clouds that quickly became full. The rain fell down in buckets, relentless and in every direction. Wind picked up along with it, strong gusts that tangled the ropes and ripped the sails. John had watched in horror as the wind tore through the barrels on deck, supplies spilled and wasted into the ocean. The ship illuminated with each crack of lightening, thunder roaring and coupled with the wind making it difficult for John to hear his friends and their desperate calls for help.

“John!” A hand suddenly gripped the young soldier’s forearm tightly, fingers digging into the soaked material of his shirt. Tan fingers and a familiar voice was all John needed for recognition.

“Greg!” His friend was thrown violently into the side of the ship, taking John with him. Using his body weight and the direction of the rocking ship, he pulled the other man towards him, keeping his friend from falling overboard.

“Greg—.” There was a sudden roar and a sickening snap, a wall of water spilling over the side and sending both men to the floor. John shielded his head with one arm while the other groped around wildly for something to hold onto.

There was a second violent tilt and John was suddenly pulled from Greg’s tight grip. The sinking ship gave a sudden jerk, an aftershock, and slid the soldier into a small staircase, ribs connecting to the corner of them painfully. On impact, John’s fingers found a thin brass rail. He wrapped his arm around it tightly, crouching to the deck to steady himself and he began to pray to a God he did not believe existed.

“ _Please God, let me live_.”

John blinked back water as he searched frantically for his friend. He waited for lightening, brief moments where the wreckage and debris could be seen. The deck was splitting, large holes and snapped boards creating a dangerous path.

A bright light and a loud clap of thunder brought everything to a terrifying standstill for a few brief seconds. There was an agonizing creak and the sound of splintering wood from above and John lifted his eyes in time to see the mast sway back and forth slowly before it finally snapped and came falling down with an eerie groan.

Eyes widening, John jumped to his feet and scrambled through the layers of water coating the deck. The boat gave a violent and dangerous tilt as the weight of the mast finally made contact with the deck, the top half snapping and giving way to the ocean.

John braced himself as he slid quickly towards the edge of the ship. He held out his arms and gripped the railing thinking he was safe.

He could not have picked a better time to become hopeful.

A large wave startled him and he slid along the rail, fingers slipping as he went. With a sudden terrified shout and a short prayer, John was thrown overboard.

\--

His initial thought was neither intelligent nor helpful: “ _Fuck_ ”.

The moment John was engulfed in water, there was immediate darkness followed by a blinding, stinging pain. It felt like thousands of needles worming their way underneath his skin. He tensed with the pain, his joints locking into place. It took him a few moments to gather himself and realize that there were no needles but rather it was the frigid temperature of the water. John gritted his teeth and gathering what little strength he had left he kicked his legs, the limbs shocked from such freezing temperatures slowly regaining their feeling and strength.

John kicked his legs hard and tore through the water with his arms. He could feel his body rolling with the waves and he could no longer remember which way was up and which was down. He struggled to remember his training, all of the neat tricks he used to read in his books but the lack of air was growing hard to ignore and John could finally feel himself begin to panic.

The fear and crushing weight of his lungs was suddenly too much. He pumped his legs furiously and struggled to look past the dark water, looking for any light, any way at all to tell where the surface was.

John suddenly felt a chill by his leg followed by a flash of light. It had been a brief flicker, a pale, bright blue. It was enough for him.

John switched directions and began frantically swimming in the direction of the light. His body was clenching and his lungs felt as they were about to burst. He needed to break the surface soon or else--.

There was a pressure on his ears and his head pounded. With a burst of clarity, John realized with a sickening clench in his gut that he was swimming downwards. The rest of his air left his mouth in bursts, bubbles rising up. (“ _Oh, there’s a trick_ ,” he thought hysterically.)

John felt his eyes closing, could feel his lungs caving in. He thought of his Mum and how he had promised to come home. Feeling nothing but guilt, John’s eyes slipped shut.

\--                                                                                                                                                         

Warm and refreshing. Soft. Bright. White; no, pale. Blueblueblue. Arms (sinewy, thin and powerful) holding him up. Where was he? Floating, yes. Dead, maybe.

But there, there it was again. There was a small burst of warmth, but not a burst, that’s much too aggressive a word. It was slowly easing its way around John’s body. Warmth that spread from his lips, down his throat, to the tips of his fingers and all the way to his toes.

His fingers seemed to come to life before the rest of him, wiggling softly and feeling...nothing. John wiggled his curious digits a little faster, growing more aware with each passing thought.

_The storm. The ship. Drowning._

John gasped and the warmth left him and water took its place. He was still in the ocean, god knows how far below.

“ _Idiot_.” A conscious thought was suddenly in his head; just a simple, single word said in a voice that was very much not his and saying a word he had definitely not thought.

Strong, thin arms pulled John’s body forward and there was that warmth again. The water that had been overflowing his lungs was suddenly sucked from his body, a strange sensation that John had no control over. The soothing warmth replaced the saltwater in his lungs and it felt like breathing. It was not air but it was giving John strength. He blearily blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the ocean water and the darkness that still surrounded him.

He lifted his hands, his fingers finding their way to the strong limbs wrapped around him. John followed strong forearms to broad shoulders, up a thin neck, chin, jawline, and silky strands of hair.

Feeling ridiculous, curious, and daring, John moved his hands back to shoulders, smoothing them down a slender but strong chest, a Man. He felt with a doctor’s eye, could feel the grooves and dips of scars and puckered skin where there had been burns. The further down he went, his fingers slid over smooth slippery bits of what felt like glass, until he reached hips or where he assumed hips should be. Instead of skin, the glass was covering this man’s hips, groin, and—John felt farther and realized with a start that there were no legs, just glass. He pushed gently with his fingertips and felt the glass dip. The “glass” was malleable but strong, flexible.

“ _Scales_.” He thought.

John’s eyes widened and for the first time since feeling the warmth, he felt afraid.

The man—or creature—tightened his arms around John, strong hands holding him, one on his waist, the other between his shoulder blades. Soft lips moved against his and there was more of the warmth and, despite himself, John relaxed. His eyes slipped shut as he instinctively pressed forward and returned the not-quite kiss.

He raised his hands once more, reaching up for cheeks, jawline. John sunk his fingers into thick hair, softer than anything he had ever felt. He froze when instead of ears he felt a strange slippery material, cartilage. It had ridges and was the same size of human years, if not a bit larger, with grooves that spread out into a wing-type shape.

The creature slid his hand down John’s spine then back up in a firm, fluid motion. He could feel the warmth of the creature’s body even through the many layers of his wet clothes, reassuring him that this was real and that he was not alone.  

John shook his head, sucking in the warmth as if he was holding his breath. Rational thoughts and questions began circling his head, things that he did not have answers to. How long had he been on conscious? Where was he? Being dead was still a very real possibility. And, the most prominent of all thoughts and questions; who, or what, was he wrapped up in.

John closed his mouth, leaving the soft, full lips that had begun eagerly nipping at his bottom lip. With his hands on the creature’s shoulders, the soldier pushed his body away so he could finally see what had saved him.

Surrounded by the dark greys and greens of the ocean water, John was eye to eye with the face of a Man. A strong, handsome face with wild, dark hair that surrounded his head like a halo, the water pushing the strands back and forth with each wave overhead. Bright eyes hid under dark, furrowed eyebrows. The eyes, the color he had seen when he first remembered waking up. They were an otherworldly cerulean, bright and brilliantly blue while somehow still being green and grey at the same time.

“ _Christ, look at him_ ,” John thought as he traced his fingers over high cheekbones and full lips. A long neck turned into that slim chest he had traced earlier. With eyes, John could actually see the deep scars on his ribcage, small nicks here and there, and an angry puckered burn scar just below his collarbone.

Flickers of light, he remembered seeing them earlier. They had not been actual lights but reflections. Reflected light off the scales that covered the man’s lower half. Each scale changed color as the waves and moonlight above them changed and shifted with the wind. There were greys and greens that changed to purple as the creature bobbed in the water.

There were no legs but scales that blended into a type of cartilage-type tissue John cannot remember ever seeing or feeling in all of his years of medical training. Reaching the bottom of the creature, instead of feet there was a large, wide tail a brilliant shade of dark blue.  

John had read stories as a child of wonderful creatures that lived deep in the ocean; magical, ethereal beings that had the bodies of fish. Mermaids that could either bring fishermen and anyone else who caught glimpse of a mermaid’s beauty, riches and good fortune. There were also tales of bad omens; deaths, anguish, pain, _storms_.

“It was you.” John thought and was surprised when the creature raised an eyebrow in response.

The creature wrapped his arms around John’s waist against, annoyed expression on his face. He leaned forward, moving his lips towards John’s once more.

John pulled away, confused, alarmed, and not taking this well at all.  

“ _You’ll drown. I’m trying to help you_.” The voice was back in his head, a deep baritone that reverberated off John’s skull and stayed there long after it was gone.

“ _Why_?” John thought, still holding the creature at arm’s length, frigid fingers pressed tightly into the taut skin of broad shoulders.

The creature paused. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, regarding John with fascination and a sad sort of amusement. John matched the gaze, letting his own confusion and amazement show on his face. The creature lifted his hand slowly from John’s waist. It hung in the air, reserved, for a moment before he slowly placed his palm on John’s cheek. Long fingers buried themselves in dishwater hair, full lips raising in one corner in a crooked smile.

“ _I don’t know_.”

\--

John pulled the blanket tighter around himself and shivered violently, sitting heavily on a paint chipped bench. He curled around himself tighter, wishing for a moment that he were back in the water where he had been warm and with—

“John!” Arms were suddenly around him. John laughed, relieved, dropping the blanket to pull his friend in a tight hug.

“Jesus, I thought you were dead.” Greg sighed, dropping his arms and taking a seat on the bench. He looked out across the water, the sky was a dark blue, gradually turning into a dusty pink; the sun would be out soon.

“I could say the same about you.” John said, his voice rough and tired. Greg laughed, recounting the tale of his own escape.

“Dmitri must have called rescue just as the storm hit. God, any longer and we both would have been dead.” Greg leaned back, spreading his legs out in front of them.

“I saw you, John. One second you were there, the next you were gone. Man of steel, you are. You were down there for nearly an hour.” Greg laughed loudly, bumping his shoulder into John’s. He smiled, looking out over the ocean. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, light reflecting off the crest of the waves.

 “What happened down there?” Greg asked, blowing hot breath in between his cupped hands. John grinned, remembered waking up to strange warmth and strong arms.

 “Something new.”  


End file.
